The Mummy
by Malaria Vincent
Summary: The story of The Mummy using the Yu-gi-oh cast. Someone had to do it. Might as well be me. AU/Thiefshipping.
1. Gypises, Tramps and Thieves

A/N- there's not really much to say here. It's a story I've always wanted to do and I got tired of just leaving it on my computer. So, here's the first chapter.

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**Gypsies, Tramps and Thives**

"I knew this was going to be a bad day." Bakura hissed as he stretched his thin arms over his head. His soft British accent combined with the slightly low pitch of his voice made him sound just a bit dangerous. The revolver held securely in his shoulder holster only added to the effect.

He looked thoroughly out of place in the middle of the desert. He appeared to be in his early twenties with long, white hair falling almost halfway down his back even in the ponytail it was currently tied in. The long sleeves of his thin white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing a bit of his pale, flawless skin.

By contrast, the slightly disheveled blonde that had just drug himself to the top of the wall Bakura was standing on looked rather like a drowned rat. His dark blonde hair was soaked with sweat and a pink flush tinged his cheeks from running in the heat. Joey huffed and placed his hands on his knees. "Ya know, I'd kinda like ta surrender." He panted in his unmistakable Bronx accent. "Can't we just surrender?"

"Oh, shut up." Bakura snapped irritably. "Give me that."

Joey pulled off his cartridge belt and handed it to him without question. As he watched the white-haired boy throw it on, crisscrossing his own bandolier, he said, "Then let's run, ya know, while we still can."

Bakura didn't answer him. Instead he turned to face him and said, "Give me your revolver. You're never going to use it." It was an order. Joey shot him a look but pulled the pistol out of his belt and threw it to him.

"Could just play dead, ya know." He muttered, almost to himself. "Nobody does dat anymore."

Bakura checked the dual guns he now carried before speaking again. "Now go and find me a large stick." It was spoken without humour, like a very serious order.

Joey cocked his head at his leader. "In da desert? What for?"

The younger man shrank back as Bakura stepped closer to him. They were standing almost nose to nose when he said in that falsely charming way, "So I can tie it to your back. You appear to be without a spine."

In the distance, both could hear the thundering of the horses' hooves. Bakura only sighed and jumped down from the short wall into the ruins, pulling Joey after him by the collar of the man's shirt.

"Just how did someone like you wind up here anyway?" Bakura wondered out loud as the two moved deeper into the ruined city at a smart pace just shy of a run.

"I got caught robbin' a synagogue." Joey answered in a kind of off-handed way. "Lotsa stuff in holy places and who's guardin' 'em?"

Bakura jumped lightly over a fallen pillar. "Alter boys?" he guessed, smirking.

"Exactly!" Joey laughed. "And I know, like, seven languages so ya just use what ya got! What about you? Kill somebody?"

The younger man laughed at that until the edge of his shoe caught on a half-buried piece of an outer wall. He tripped and caught himself on the other thief's arm, forcing Bakura to drag him for several paces and eventually pulling him to the ground.

"I'm considering it." he told the blonde as they scrambled back to their feet. Joey fell back a bit as they turned a sharp corner through the gate, letting Bakura get ahead of him.

"And what then?" he called as they flew down the stone ramp. "Robbery? Extortion? Kidnapping!"

"None of the above, thank you!" Bakura called back over his shoulder.

"Then what da hell are ya doin' here?" Joey yelled as they both skidded to a stop on the front line. They could see the riders now. The sound of the horses' hooves was deafening even from this distance.

Bakura smirked, showing long, pointed canine teeth. "I was just looking for a good time."

Joey looked from the young thief at his side to the massive dust cloud the horses were kicking up. He shook his head slowly. Then, all at once, the Legionnaires commander turned and bolted, flying back into the ruins, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Bakura tensed and then rolled his eyes. "Damn it. Steady!" he barked. Hearing someone take command like that gave the men around him a little much-needed courage. Still, the effect quickly wore off and several others ran as the horde drew nearer.

"Steady!" Bakura barked again and then softer, to himself, said "What the hell am I saying?" He looked up at the riders from under his tousled and spiked white hair. Due to distance and dust as well as the heat distortion, he couldn't be sure just how many there were. More than enough to kick their asses, he was pretty sure.

The riders, the Tuaregs, sent a war cry across the desert. More of the Legionnaires behind Bakura turned tail and ran. This time Joey was right there with them, screaming about being too young to die.

"Idiots!" The white-haired thief snapped after them. "Steady!" _Just what the hell am I doing?_ he thought as the Tuaregs drew closer. He saw them lift their rifles and take aim. Bakura ground his boot heel into the sand. He would not run. Instead he hit one knee and lifted the small rifle he'd taken from one of the Legionnaires up to his shoulder.

He waited.

"Fire!" The deafening sound of gunfire was suddenly all around him. The first three lines of Tuaregs fell from their mounts. Bakura stifled a laugh as the Legionnaires on the ground behind him quickly reloaded.

"Fire!" He laughed a bit this time as more of them bit the sand. The horses panicked and tangled themselves up, several falling over and tripping the others. Those still on their horses opened fire. Despite the chaos, they were still trained. Their aim was much better. A third of the Legionnaires were killed instantly.

"Fire!" Bakura screamed over his shoulder. The Legionnaires that remained standing behind him fired, knocking several more Tuaregs to the ground.

In the next second, the entire Tuareg force plowed into them.

Bakura tightened his long-fingered hands on the barrel of his rifle, clubbing riders off of their mounts and fighting like a man possessed. His sharp eyes were wide with a barely contained madness that none had ever seen before. Least of all Joey, who was currently combat crawling away in the dust kicked up from the fight. He reached the front gate and paused just long enough to look back at the Legionnaires falling dead around him.

Bakura hurled the rifle at the nearest rider, knocking the man to the ground and going for the revolvers. He cross-drew, a gun in each hand and started blasting riders from their horses. A slightly manic grin twisted his lips was blood splattered across the sand around him.

Joey covered his head with his arms at the new sound of the dual revolvers. Soon enough, though, he was crawling faster then he was before, looking around for a place to hide. The hot sand scalded his hands and burned his eyes, making it difficult to see straight. Ahead of him, in a cluster of rocks, he found the temple doorway.

Laughing giddily, he got up and sprinted for the door. Behind him, a steady clicking met Bakura's ears. His guns were empty.

"Son of a bitch." The man hissed. He turned and bolted, passing the front gate again as four Tuaregs on huge Arabians thundered after him. The thief jumped a stone column, landing with a hitch-step and running even faster. He caught sight of Joey in the temple doorway and slid into a turn.

Joey pressed the sandstone door he'd been trying to close even harder. He heard Bakura bark "What the hell are you doing?" The man was still too far away to do much about it. Joey threw his weight against the door as the four horsemen leaped the stone pillar near the gate.

"Don't you close that door." Bakura's voice held a clear warning tone. "Don't you close that door!" A soft puff of dust fell from the doorframe. Bakura slammed his shoulder against the sandstone but it made little difference. "I'm gonna get you for this." he snarled to Joey, clenching his teeth.

He turned from the temple and bolted, weaving through the ruins. The thundering hooves were getting louder and louder. Finally, Bakura spun to face the riders. He couldn't run anymore. His lungs were scorched from the sand, his breathing shallow and erratic. The Tuaregs lifted their rifles.

A soft laughed forced its way out of the thief's aching throat. He lifted his head and looked the lead horsemen in the eyes, laughing. His dark eyes snapped fire, a look of defiance plain on his face.

Suddenly, the horses reared. They snorted and screeched in fear, bucking and throwing their riders from their backs. They raced back the way they came and the Tuareg quickly followed, leaving Bakura standing alone.

He looked after them for a moment. It didn't make any sense. Why would they run like that? Not that he was complaining. He started to walk, to leave and find Joey when a cold chill hit him from behind. He whirled around to find only the eyes of the ruined statue of Anubis staring blankly back at him.

The ground shifted violently under his feet. Bakura caught himself on his hands and stood, backing away. The sand moved and writhed as though it were a living thing. It looked as though giant snakes were crawling just below the surface, drawing lines and patterns. He watched them for a long moment, mesmerized.

The sand to his right shifted back and hit him like a strong wave, knocking him to the ground. Bakura scrambled to his feet and ran, only once risking a backward glance.

In the sand beneath the broken statues was the face of a man, his mouth open in a deafening scream that echoed in the wind that chased the white-haired thief through the ruins.

High on a ridge, a small group of horsemen watched the thief stagger clear of the ruined city. Bakura sensed them and looked up to find them watching him. He would've asked their names, what they were doing here but he was simply exhausted. Every bone and muscle ached and he was still spitting sand. Joey was going to pay for this.

The lead horseman brushed a few loose strands of hair, blown by the wind, out of his face. He looked rather outlandish, to say the least. Even more so than Bakura, who clearly wasn't from the country. His hair was heavily spiked and tri-coloured, mostly black but dyed red on the ends with blonde pieces in the front.

Despite this, there was something fierce about him. The man seemed to see right through him, directly into his soul. Needless to say, it was a decidedly uncomfortable sensation for the thief.

This man, Atem, watched him closely, unsure of his presence here. Bakura returned the stare, noting what a strange colour the man's eyes were, before looking away again and starting to walk. He was determined to ignore him if he could. He'd had enough human contact for a while.

"Should we kill him?" asked one of the horsemen in Arabic.

"No." Atem answered in the same language. His voice was a lower pitch than one would expect and carried a soft regal lilt. "The Sahara will kill him." He said as he watched Bakura walk unsteadily into the open desert.

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A/N- Prize of cookies and a Mythbusters marathon for guessing who plays Evy.


	2. Reunion

A/N- Yay, second chapter. Can't you tell I'm thrilled? Anyway, Kaiba's kinda like he is in the American version: A jerk. BUT. As a Christmas gift to all the Thiefshippers… Malik is Evy. ^.^ (By Malik I mean the good one. We were seeing Yami Bakura in the first chapter. Just thought I'd clarify that.)

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**Reunion**

"I'm gonna be late and then he's gonna yell at me again." Malik caught himself on his hands as he slid around the corner. Seto Kaiba was never very lenient with him, or any of his employees for that matter. Malik cursed himself for staying up so late last night. He hadn't slept at all.

At first glance, Malik Ishtar would look a bit out of place in the city. He was young, only nineteen, with a naturally tan complexion and slightly fluffy vanilla-blonde hair that fell just past his shoulders. The feathered bangs drew attention to his violet eyes and gave him an all-in-all very feminine appearance.

The boy was very slender but much stronger than he looked. More than once, he'd had to deck someone twice his size for thinking he was an easy target. For all that, however, there was one man he would never win against. That was painfully apparent when Malik skidded to a stop in front of the CEO himself just inside the doors.

Kaiba carefully kept his expression blank when Malik looked up at him and laughed nervously, almost like a child caught out after bedtime.

The older man sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Sons of the Pharaoh." He hissed, resting his fingers against the bridge of his nose. He looked heavenward. "Give me flies, frogs, locusts! Anything but you!" Malik curled his thin arms against his chest as Kaiba began to pace, long coat trailing behind him. "Compared to you, the other plagues were a joy!"

"Sir, I told you about the accident…" Malik began but Kaiba cut him off.

"When Ramses destroyed Syria, _that_ was an accident." Kaiba snarled. "_You_ were driving 90 in a rainstorm on a _motorcycle_! You're lucky you can even walk!" The man threw his hands in the air, uncharacteristically expressive. "Why do I put up with you?" he asked in an overly-tired parent kind of way.

Malik looked down at the tiled floor, gritting his teeth. "Well," he started, "because I can read and write in Ancient Egyptian. I can decipher hieroglyphics and hieratic." He sighed and looked up, meeting Kaiba's blue eyes steadily. "And I'm the only person within a thousand miles who knows how to properly code and-and catalogue this library, that's why."

Kaiba ignored the tone of the younger man's voice as well as the fighting stance he'd instinctively taken up. "I put up with you because your mother and father were our finest patrons. Now," he stepped close to Malik and said clearly, "I don't care how you do it….I don't care how long it takes…Clean this place up! You're an employee, for God's sake! Do your job!"

He turned sharply and stalked away, leaving Malik standing in the entrance hall near the library door. The Egyptian teen sighed softly and crossed the threshold, shutting the heavy door behind him. He paused for a moment, biting back a rather undignified curse and taking slow calming breaths. Oh, well. At least he still had a job.

A soft rustling from a smaller room in the back caught his attention. He stopped and listened for a moment. The noise was very quiet, almost like someone shuffling their feet on thick carpet.

"Hello?" he asked softly, his faint Egyptian Arabic accent making him sound unsure. The rustling continued softly. Malik cocked his head at the door and moved closer, stepping lightly.

The nearby gallery was well-lit but something was still making the man nervous. The shuffling continued, a little louder now. It seemed to be coming from the far side of the room. Malik walked carefully along the aisle, looking up at the statues of Anubis and Horus that stared down at him. At the far end of the aisle was an open sarcophagus.

The teen stopped mid-stride. He glanced back over his shoulder, feeling as though he was being watched. He swallowed hard and turned back. It was still early, just a little before sunrise. The place hadn't even opened yet. So who…?

Malik slowly eased his hand out, long fingers barely brushing the edge of the sarcophagus.

The rotted remains of the mummy screeched at him, lifting themselves from the casket. Malik shrieked and fell backward, landing hard on his tailbone. He would've screamed and ran then if it hadn't been for the quiet laughter he heard over his own ragged breathing.

Rishid sat up from the sarcophagus, laughing loudly as Malik ground his teeth and pulled himself to his feet. The younger's lavender eyes snapped fire and a soft pink tinge could be seen just under his high cheekbones.

"You…you…" he fought for the words.

"Jackass? Idiot? Rat-bastard?" Rishid offered as he climbed out of the sarcophagus. "Please, Mal, call me something original."

Malik snarled at him but didn't say anything right away. Finally, he managed, "Have you no respect for the dead?"

Rishid draped his arm around the mummy's shoulders. "I do. But right now, I think I'd like to join them." He said simply.

Malik shoved him hard in the chest. "Well, I wish you'd do it sooner rather than later before you ruin my career the way you've ruined yours." He barked, setting the mummy back where it came from.

The older man leaned on the edge of the sarcophagus in an obnoxiously laid back manner. "My dear, sweet little brother," he said, overly-dramatic, "I'll have you know that at this very moment my career is on a high note." He stepped away, making a grand gesture and smirking like he was planning something.

Malik looked carefully over the scars that covered the left half of his adopted brother's face, a reminder of his last little scheme. He shook his head. "High note? Ha! For five years you've been scrounging around in Egypt and what do you have to show for it? Nothing!" Malik snapped as he brushed past him, striding haughtily up the aisle and trying to put as much distance between them as he could.

"Oh, yes, I do!" The man said as he started to follow him, digging through his coat pockets.

Malik sighed, pushing a thin hand through his hair. "Not another worthless trinket." He breathed. "I swear, if I have to bring one more piece of junk to Kaiba to try and sell for you, I-"

He stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of what Rishid was holding out for him. It looked similar to a scepter only shorter, about the length of his forearm. It looked to be gold and the weight of it in his hand seemed to confirm it. Atop it was a sphere made to look like the Eye of Horus adorned with two simple wings.

Malik turned the thing over and over in his hands. "Where did you get this?" he asked softly.

"On a dig down in Thebes." He said easily, watching his brother closely. The younger man murmured quietly to himself as he translated the markings along the staff. Behind him, Rishid shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "My whole life, I've never found anything, Mal. Tell me I've found something."

Malik largely ignored him, running his fingertips over the cold metal, only slightly warm now despite how tightly he'd been holding it. A soft click announced that he'd found what he was looking for. The staff came apart easily, revealing what at first glance would appear to be a plain dagger. The point of the blade was curved this way and that, making it look vaguely ritualistic.

"Rishid?" Malik breathed, sharp eyes never leaving the blade.

"Yes?" The man sounded like an anxious child.

"I think you've found something."

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A/N- Yep.

Because of the date, and because I feel weird if I don't, I'd like to wish you all a very merry Christmas. If you don't celebrate it, just pretend I said 'Happy Holidays' and take the good wishes and good will. Thanks to all my fans. (To herself: Cool. I have fans. ^.^)


	3. The City

A/N- Yes, this chapter is short. Yes, the next one will be longer. Yes, we will see Bakura in the next one. Yes, I like waffles. Now that that's out of the way…Onward to mediocrity!

(Also, I own nothing. I just mess with other people's characters for fun.)

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**The City**

The warm sunlight streamed through the open curtains along the main hall. In the distance, the soft sounds of the city overlaid with the chirping of the birds perched on the nearby trees provided pleasant background noise. Malik noticed none of it.

The young man paced behind Kaiba's desk as the CEO turned the staff over and over in his hands. The slightly faded parchment found in the dagger's sheath lay open on the desk in front of him. The edges were slightly frayed but the writing was still very clear to those who could read it.

"And this, here," Malik said, leaning over the man's shoulder to point to a piece of the map, "It's the official royal seal of Seti the First, I'm sure of it."

Kaiba, still focused on the staff, ignored him. "Maybe," he murmured, looking at both the small inscriptions through a small jeweler's eyepiece.

"Two questions," Rashid broke in, leaning forward. "Who the hell was Seti the First and was he rich?"

Malik rolled his eyes. Having a brother who knew so little of Egyptian history never failed to annoy him. There was also Rashid's near-obsession with money (and perpetual lack of it) to deal with whenever the man turned up. "He was the last Pharaoh of the Old Kingdom, said to be the wealthiest of them all."

"I like this guy," Rashid sat back in his chair, seeming satisfied with the explanation. "I like him very much."

Kaiba was doing an excellent job of ignoring them both. He carefully picked up the folded map, smoothing it out slowly so as not to damage it. Malik bounced near the edge of the desk.

"I've already dated it," he said, straining to keep the excitement from his voice. "That map is over four thousand years old. And the hieratics here," he stopped and took a deep breath, "It's Hamunaptra."

Kaiba's hands stilled over the map and a strange expression ghosted across his features. He glanced up at them and recovered quickly. "Are you serious?" he asked, "We're scholars, not treasure hunters. Hamunaptra is a myth."

"I'm sorry, are we talking about _the_ Hamunaptra?" Rashid was suddenly very interested in the conversation again, the mention of the city pulling him from whatever fantasy world he'd fallen into.

Malik smirked, "Yes. The City of the Dead. Where the early Pharaohs were said to have hidden the wealth of Egypt."

Rashid stood, wandering around the room as he spoke, "Right, right, in a big underground treasure chamber. Everybody knows the story. The entire necropolis was rigged to sink into the sand on Pharaoh's command. A flick of the switch and the whole place could disappear beneath the sand dunes."

"Well, until the city mysteriously vanished around 2,134 B.C."

"You can really believe all this?" Kaiba asked, holding the map near a burning candle on the edge of his desk. "It's a fairy-tale."

Malik started to argue when a soft crackling sound stopped him. Kaiba quickly threw the burning map to the floor and stood, clutching his hand. He wasn't hurt but whether or not the fire was entirely accidental was anyone's guess. Rashid was already swatting at the flames with his hands. It was only a small fire and it was put out quickly but the left third of the map was now completely unusable.

"That was the piece with the lost city." Malik murmured almost to himself, strangely shocked at what he somehow knew Kaiba had done intentionally.

"That was for the best, I'm sure. Men have wasted their lives in foolish pursuit of Hamunaptra. No one's ever found it. Most have never returned."

"You killed my map." Rashid whined, sounding devastated.

"It was probably a fake anyway." Kaiba snapped. "And I'm surprised at you, Ishtar, for being that easily fooled."

Kaiba reached down for the staff but Malik stepped forward and snatched it off of the desk, holding it close against him. The look he gave Kaiba probably should've gotten him fired but the man said nothing about it and irritably waved them out of the room.

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A/N- Things are getting strange. If you haven't seen The Mummy or don't remember it that well, then some of the things later on might be kind of a shock to you. If you do remember it, well try and enjoy the story anyway.

As per usual, I will now beg for reviews. *big, shiny eyes* Please?


	4. Caged Bird

A/N: Hooray, I finally got off my butt and wrote something again! I can't work on Invader Zim ('cause I just _had_ to be happy) but I can still fangirl for other shows.

**Caged Bird**

It was far too hot. The warden waddled along ahead of them, pointing out various criminals and listing their crimes in an attempt to make the trip a little more interesting. Malik and Rashid were tuning him out completely.

"You told me you found it on a dig down in Thebes." Malik hissed at his brother as they walked.

"Well, I was mistaken." Rashid held his hands up, trying to look innocent and failing.

"You lied to me."

"I lie to everybody. What makes you so special?"

Malik stopped short. "I am your brother."

"Well that just makes you more gullible."

Malik pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. The combination of his brother and all the heat and dust was giving him a headache. "You stole it from a kid." he muttered.

"Oh, all I did was pick is pocket."

Up ahead of them, the warden whistled. He gestured to a nearby cell and waved them over.

"And what is he in prison for?" Malik asked carefully, looking into the currently empty cell.

The warden shrugged. "I did not know, so when I heard you were coming I asked him myself."

"And what did he say?"

"He said…he was just looking for a good time." As if on cue, the interior cell door was flung open and the prisoner was thrown to the sand covered floor. He lifted his head as the guards slammed him against the cage bars. Sand-coloured hair covered most of his face, hanging in his eyes and hiding several bruises. Malik stepped back from the cell, disgusted.

"Just a common criminal." he murmured.

"Way to go, Mal." Rashid cringed away as well.

The man's eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them eventually settling on Malik. "Who's the chick?" he asked, glancing at Rashid.

"Chick?" Malik repeated, shocked. Granted, covered up and in loose clothes, he did look very feminine but that really wasn't the point.

Rashid cut in then. "_He_ is my brother, actually."

"Ah," the prisoner's voice was rough, like he'd swallowed a lot of sand. "Well, I'm sure he's not a total loss." There was a faint tinge of some accent but Malik couldn't place it. Not that he was really focused on it right then. Who the hell said things like that about someone they just met?

A commotion from several cells down broke the tension. "I'll be back." the warden called over his shoulder, waddling away.

The prisoner smirked. "I tremble with anticipation." One of the guards cracked him on the head with a small club but it didn't seem to bother him much.

"Okay," Malik shifted uncomfortably but decided to ask anyway. "We found your, um… that golden staff. And we just wanted to ask you about it."

The prisoner let one arm fall through a gap in the bars, which was alittle awkward with the wrist chains he wore. "No."

Malik blinked. "No?"

"No…you came to ask me about Hamunaptra."

Malik glanced up at the guards but they didn't seem to have heard. He reached back and drug Rashid closer to the bars. "And how did you know it was related to Hamunaptra?"

The prisoner shrugged. "Because that's where I was when I found it."

Malik stared in disbelief while Rashid leaned back away from the bars. "And how do we know that's not a lot of bull?"

The prisoner turned to him. He started to speak but then stopped and looked a little closer at him. "Don't I…know you from somewhere?"

"Oh well…" Rashid backpedaled, nervous. "No, I-I've just got one of those faces…"

The world shifted hard then and suddenly he was lying on his back, staring at the sky while his vision faded out around the edges. There was a sharp pain in his jaw but it faded quickly as he lost consciousness. The prisoner only received another hard 'thwack' to the head.

"Well…" Malik sighed, checking that his brother was still breathing. He looked back to the cell. "You were really at Hamunaptra?"

The man in the cell was rubbing his knuckles. "I just decked your brother." he said, amazed that the boy wasn't fazed by this.

"Yeah, well," Malik shrugged. "I know my brother."

The man almost smiled. He liked this kid.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I was there."

"You swear?"

"Every damn day."

"No, I mean-"

"I know, I know." the prisoner flicked his hand. "Yes, I was there."

Malik leaned closer to the bars, excited. "Where? What did you find? What did you see?"

"I found sand." was the response. "I saw death."

A quiet jingling of keys announced the warden's return. Malik gave an almost inaudible snarl and turned back to the cell. "Can you tell me how to get there?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

Malik sighed. "Yes."

The prisoner was quiet for a moment then reached through the bars, grabbing Malik by the shirt collar. Malik lost his balance, falling against the bars. It wasn't being pulled forward like that that had startled him…it was the kiss. A stranger…a _prisoner_…kissed him.

Malik blinked at him as he sat back, one hand instinctively going to his lips. The other man leaned against the bars. "Then get me the hell out of here."

A guard clubbed him across the back of the head, grabbing him by the arm and the wrist chains this time and dragging him back through the interior door.

Malik finally recovered enough to speak, looking up at the warden from his place on the ground. "Where are they taking him?"

"To be hanged." The warden smiled at him, showing green and yellow teeth. "Apparently he had a very good time."

A/N: Kind short again. Oh, well. So. There's that. Yeah. (Dramatic music)


	5. Redemption

A/N: Yay! Here we are again. I just remembered how much I love the actual movie. [geek] Also, there's a possibility that a dear friend of mine will use these stories as a translation exercise for her constructed language. How awesome is that? ^^ [/geek]

**Redemption**

Malik rung is hands, watching the guards lead their prisoner out into the gallows courtyard. In the better light outside he could see him clearer. Very thin with long, sand-coloured hair, pale skin and dark brown eyes. He looked like he'd had a rough life but something about him made him seem very young. Malik thought of a troublesome high-school student.

The warden plopped down beside the nervous teen in the stands. "Having fun?"

Malik sighed. "I'll give you $100 to spare him." He wasn't sure what made him say that but he wasn't about to scramble to take it back. This was his best chance at finding the city, he couldn't just let it go.

"Please. I would pay $100 just to see him hanged."

"Two hundred." Malik tried again.

"Proceed!" the warden called down to the guards, not really listening.

Malik snarled. "Three hundred!"

Down below them, the hangman tightened the noose on the prisoner's neck. "Any last requests?"

"Yeah, loosen the knot and let me go."

The hangman ignored him, placing his hand on the lever for the trapdoor and waiting for the warden's signal.

Up in the stands, Malik gritted his teeth. "Five hundred."

The warden paused. "And what else?" He draped an arm over the back of Malik's chair. "I'm a very lonely man."

Malik calmly moved one chair to his right, out of the warden's reach. Insulted, the man waved an arm at the hangman down below. The executioner pulled the lever, letting the trapdoor fall away. Malik stood, hands landing on the back of the chair in front of him. The rope unwound and pulled tight with a sickening _crack!_

Everything was quiet for a long moment.

"Ha!" the warden sat forward. "His neck did not break." This was followed by a deafening cheer from the other prisoners in the stands. Malik sat back down, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Now we watch him strangle to death."

Malik took a slow breath. He could hear the prisoner choking. He had one more chance.

He sat up, turning back to the warden and leaning close to him. "He knows the way to Hamunaptra."

The warden stopped laughing and looked at him. "You lie."

"I would never."

"You really expect me to believe that this filthy, Godless son of a pig knows where to find the City of the Dead?"

Malik bit back a smile. "Yes. If you cut him down, I'll give you ten percent."

The warden raised a bushy eyebrow. "Fifty percent."

Malik sat back. "Twenty."

"Fourt-"

"Thirty."

The warden growled at him. "Twenty-five."

Malik stopped him before he could backpedal. "Deal."

It took the man a moment to figure out what had happened. He turned back toward the hangman and yelled in Arabic. The executioner took a long sword to the rope holding the prisoner, letting him fall unceremoniously to the ground. The man picked himself up to his knees, coughing, and looked up into the stands.

Malik smirked and waved back to him.

"Kill him." Kaiba ordered, tapping his fingers on the desk. Across from him were three men dressed in dark purple robes. One of them sported a rusted metal hook in place of his hand. He was the first to speak.

"He's like all the others. He'll die in the desert."

"No!" Kaiba leaned across the desk. "He's seen too much. Not only does he have the map, he has the key."

'Hook' brought both hands down on Kaiba's desk. "The key? He has the lost key?"

"No one has ever had so much, been so close. Stop him at any cost. Fail and it will be the end of us all."

"Then we will kill him." Hook stepped back. "And all those with him."

Kaiba sat back, leaning his head on his hand, tired. "Burn the map and retrieve the key."

"Yes. But what of the American expedition? They leave tomorrow."

"Forget them. They'll never find the city without a map."

Giza Port was swarming with explorers. Most were there for the pyramids visible in the distance, a few for the simple pleasure of saying they'd been there and fewer still were only there for the hawkers selling fake skeletons along the boardwalk.

Malik and Rashid walked along the boards, waiting.

"Do you really think he'll show up?" Malik glanced at his brother, who was scanning the crowd.

"Undoubtedly." Rashid stopped near their barge. "I know guys like him. He may be a scoundrel but his word is his word."

Malik crossed his arms, giving a non-committal murmur before saying, "Personally, I think he's a _complete_ scoundrel. I don't like him at all."

"Anyone I know?"

Malik jumped and turned. He'd head that voice before.

The (former) prisoner stood a few feet from him. Malik hardly recognised him. His bruises had faded and he'd showered, washing the sand out of his hair and returning it to its natural bright white. His clothes were clean and pressed giving him the look of a scholar.

Malik blinked. "Um,…hello."

Rashid decided to step in then and rescue his brother. Malik always did this around attractive people. "Nice day for an adventure, right, Bakura?"

The thief smiled but it was clearly fake. "Sure."

Up above them on the barge's second level, Joey watched the American explorer, a man by the name of Pegasus J. Crawford* pacing the room. "And you're sure that Hamunaptra is out there?" he asked for the fifth time.

"Along wit da bones a' my entire team." Joey glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Bakura on the boardwalk. At first he was sure he was just seeing things but after shaking his head like a dog coming out of water didn't erase the image, he carefully backed away from the windows.

Pegasus stopped pacing to look out at whatever had the man so frightened when Joey started toward the door. "Sorry, sir." he said quickly. "There's a lot ta do." He scurried off after that, disappearing down the hallway.

Down on the boardwalk, Malik cleared his throat. "Bakura," he tested the name, "Can you look me in the eye and tell me that this isn't some scam? Because if it is, I'm warning you-"

The thief stepped up close to him and, being slightly taller than him, looked down into his eyes. Malik didn't back away.

"All I can tell you," Bakura's voice carried his full English accent again, "is that my Colonel found that map in an old fortress and the entire garrison believed in it so much that, without orders, they marched halfway across Libya and into Egypt to find that city and when we got there all we found was sand and blood." He paused there, biting back a smile at the worried look that crossed the younger's features. "I'll get your bags."

The thief snatched the bags from the boardwalk and started up the gangplank. Malik turned and watched him, speechless. Rashid took that opportunity to step up next to his brother and offer his opinion.

"You're right. _Complete_ scoundrel, nothing to like there at all."

Malik gave him a look and seemed about to say something when none other than the warden brushed past him. The man tipped a ratted hat, smiled and said, "A bright good morning to all."

"What are you doing here?" Malik snapped. Dealing with that thief already had him on edge. He didn't need this sorry excuse for a decent human being breathing down his neck as well.

The warden shrugged. "We had a deal." he said simply. "I have to protect my investment."

Malik, unable to think of a suitable response, watched the man waddle up the gangplank. This was going to be a long trip.

A/N: If you haven't seen the movie before reading this, that was probably kind of a jolt. I'm going to try to make the chapters a little longer from now on but I'm not sure how that'll work. And thank you all for the reviews and favourites. You all rock! :) (*This was Pegasus' original name.)


	6. Let's Talk

A/N: This site killed my formatting last time for I'm trying something else. Things are starting to happen.

**Let's Talk**

The passenger barge was more upscale than they'd really expected. There was even a small bar at the bow. Currently this space was occupied by Rashid and the three Americans playing Duel Monsters. They'd been playing for hours and the game was only broken when Bakura stepped through a nearby door carrying a gunny-sack.

Rashid perked up at the sight of him, grateful for someone breaking his losing streak. He waved him over, saying, "Come on, Bakura, sit. We could use another good player."

"That would imply you had one to begin with." Bakura placed the hand not carrying the gunny-sack on his hip. "I only gamble with my life, never my money."

One of the American goons picked up on that. "Never?" he asked, "what if I were to wager five hundred dollars says we get to Hamunaptra before you?"

Bakura ignored the butchered pronunciation and returned the man's cocky look. "Sure." he answered, smiling.

The leader of the group, Pegasus, brushed silver hair over his shoulder and asked, "Just what makes you so confident?"

"What makes you?"

The second goon spit into a nearby spittoon. "We got us a man who's actually been there."

Bakura's carefully blank expression faded, replaced by a curious tilt of his head.

Rashid, not nearly as careful about watching what he said, shifted in his chair. "That's quite a coincidence, we-"

Bakura turned to leave 'accidently' clipping Rashid in the ribs with the gunny-sack. Luckily, the man recovered quickly. "Whose turn was it? Was it mine?"

Outside, Malik sat on one of the tables bolted to the deck with his shoes on a chair. He was still brushing sand out of his hair when something dropped onto the table beside him, making him jump hard.

Bakura smirked. "Sorry," he said, sitting down in an empty chair. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Malik took a breath. "The only thing that scares me are your manners."

"Still angry that I kissed you, right?"

Malik gave him side-long glance. "If you call _that_ a kiss."

Bakura was busy pulling things out of the gunny-sack. There were revolvers, pistols, hunting knives, a massive elephant gun (of all things), and about a half-dozen carefully wrapped sticks of dynamite.

Malik shifted to get a better look. "Did I...miss something?" he stopped and laughed. "Are we...are we going into battle?"

"Last time I was out there, no one else came back alive."

That took the smile off Malik's face. He was quiet for a few moments, watching Bakura dismantling and cleaning the guns. After several seconds, the thief spoke again. "There's something out there. Something underneath all that sand."

"I'm actually hoping to find a certain artefact, a book. My brother thinks there's treasure." Malik paused there before asking, "What do you think is out there?"

Bakura stopped and looked up, meeting the other's gaze. "In a word? Evil. The Tuaregs and the Bedouin believe that Hamunaptra is cursed. They call it 'the doorway into hell'."

"Ahmar is Ossirion. 'Passageway to the underworld' is more accurate." Malik leaned back on his hands with a know-it-all grin. "I don't believe in fairy tales but it do believe that one of the most famous books in history is buried out there." Malik looked off over the river as he spoke. "The Book of the Living. It's what really got me interested in my own culture when I was younger. Sort of a life's pursuit."

Bakura rested his arms on the table. "And the fact that they say it's made out of pure gold," he gestured to Malik's gold arm bands and choker, "means nothing to you, right?"

"You know your history." Malik sounded vaguely impressed.

"I know my treasure."

Malik slid off of the table, about to leave. He stopped by Bakura's chair and, as matter-of-fact as possible, asked, "By the way...why did you kiss me?"

Bakura shrugged, focused on the revolver in his hands. "I was about to be hanged, seemed like a good idea at the time."

Malik made a scoffing sound in the back of his throat, turning on his heel and storming off. Bakura watched him leave. "What?" he called after him. "What'd I say?"

There was a soft snickering sound from under the table. Bakura sighed and reached down, grabbing whoever it was by the collar and pulling them up to eye level.

"'Ey my friend! What a surprise!"

"Well, well," Bakura smirked at the struggling blonde he held at arm's length. "If it isn't my dear friend, Joey. I'm gonna kill you now."

The thief pressed the blade of a hunting knife under Joey's chin. As per usual, the man tried to weasel out of it with a grin. "You were neva any good wit love, ya know?"

"So you're the one leading the Americans. I should've known. What's the scam this time? Take them out into the middle of the desert and then leave 'em to rot?"

"Unfortunately, no." Joey winced and tried to pull away from the blade. Bakura held him still. "Da Americans are smart. Dey'll only pay me half now and half when we get back to Cairo."

Bakura pulled the knife away, stepping back. Joey leaned against the railing and rubbed at his neck. "Ya never really liked da desert, Bakura. Why are ya goin' back?

A loud yelp from farther down the deck caught their attention. A single camel in the horse paddock was taking bites at Malik whenever he moved too close. Bakura grinned as Malik finally gave up and walked away.

"That kid saved my life. I figured the least I could do was keep him out of trouble."

"Ya always did have more balls den brains." Joey was expecting a punch for that but instead Bakura laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders, putting his right side next to the railing with Joey on his left.

The thief raised a hand for a moment, thinking. Then, "Goodbye, Joey."

"Huh?"

Bakura twisted his hand into the front of Joey's shirt, pulling him forward and using the momentum to throw him over the railing. The blonde landed on his back with a loud _splash!_

Bakura ignored the screams and death threats, shoving things back into the gunny-sack, picking it up and walking away. About halfway down the deck, he stopped. The lighting here was just right to see the three sets of wet footprints coming up over the railing from the river and heading down the deck ahead of him.

A/N: *le gasp* Yeah. Also, I'm linking a deviantART account in my profile. Go to it. Nao.


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